“Who brought these in?” My voice is sharper than I wanted it to be, but it’s too late—there’s no taking the words back now. There’s a rustle as Sarah pushes herself back from her desk, and then her footsteps are soft on the thick carpeting of my office.

“Mr. Grant?

“Who brought these in?” I try to temper my tone, but the white roses on the side table in the sitting area of my office are a taunt I can’t bear.

Sarah’s eyes flick from me to the rest of the office. “The flowers?”

“The flowers, Sarah. Yes.”

“They—” She moves over to them, considering. “They were a gift from one of the companies renting space on the eighth floor. I think part of their business is managing floral.” Then she nods firmly, locating the card in the massive bouquet. “Yep. That was it. They came in late yesterday.”

There’s no hint of judgment in her voice. I didn’t see the roses come in yesterday because I left work early to coerce Gideon into going out with me…again. With similar results.

Which is why my head feels like it’s being crushed in the world’s largest vise right now.

“Get them out of my sight.” I sigh. I’m being a dick to Sarah, who doesn’t deserve any of this, but the last thing in the world I want to see right now is a bouquet of roses.

“Of course.” She lifts the vase in both hands and carries it out.

I sit down behind my desk and try to pretend I’m not gripping it for balance. This is a normal thing that people do, clutching the edge of their desks in the companies they own like they have a sudden case of vertigo.

“Are you all right, Mr. Grant?”

Sarah’s back in the doorway. I force myself to focus on her face. The effort of moving my head, the splitting pain, makes me wish I were dead. “Why do you ask?” I try to put a cavalier grin on my face, try to make up—at least a little bit—for being such an asshole, but I fail miserably.

Pity shines from her eyes. “Is there anything I can get for you? Would you like me to call your driver?”

I open my mouth to refuse on both counts. I don’t need anyone to give anything to me. I don’t deserve Sarah’s kindness, or anyone else’s. I tried to treat Juliet like property the other night, and how I feel right now is probably karmic payback for it.

The decision to stop calling her was a good one. What kind of woman wants to be with someone like me?

Not Juliet. She hasn’t answered a single call. And I’m not about to keep making a fool of myself.

I don’t deserve any kindness, but the alternative is that I sit here at my desk for the rest of the day—maybe the rest of my life—and try not to move.

“Yes. Painkillers. Tylenol—whatever we have is fine. A glass of water.” My stomach gurgles. I don’t want to eat, but that might be the only solution to my problem. It’s utterly pointless to be here today if I can’t leave my desk to attend the meetings I’ve scheduled. I’m also not interested in tipping off my executives to how shitty I feel by making them crowd around my desk. “And breakfast.”

“What kind of breakfast?”

“Sarah, do you ever go out drinking?”

The corners of her mouth quirk in a little smile. “A time or two, yeah.”

“Bring me something that would fit in with the morning-after scenario.”

Fifteen minutes later, she bustles through the door with a tray in her hands, dishes covered. In one corner is the glass of water, two pills lying neatly next to it. Sarah slides the tray across my desk, then whisks off the covers.

The plate in the center has two eggs over easy, four strips of bacon, and hash browns that glisten with grease. A stack of toast and a container of jam are perched nearby. There’s no way I can eat this. Then I smell the bacon. Maybe I can.

Sarah smiles down at me, the silver cover in her hands, and heads for the door. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

With every bite of the food—it’s piping hot and delicious, and I’ll have to send a note down to the kitchen staff congratulating them on a job well done—my head clears, the pain dulling until it’s a low throb I can ignore.

How I got to the office in the first place is a mystery. Dave must have had something to do with it. I groan a little, thinking of what an impossible douche my hungover self likely was a couple of hours ago. I must have been awake then. It must have taken all this time to get here, and I’m not dressed in some weird combination, which means other people were involved.

Fifteen minutes later, my belly is full, and the weight is like an anchor pinning me to Earth. 

“I can do this,” I say out loud, and my voice brings Sarah in from the other room.

“Finished?” She whisks the tray away from my desk before I can answer. “There’s someone here to see you.” Her cheeks go pink. “I didn’t fight him off this time. You’ve got forty-five minutes before your first meeting.”

“Wes!” Gideon cries, striding through the door like this is his own personal office. He eyes the dishes on the tray as Sarah goes by. “You ate. Thank God. I thought you might end up dead after last night. We can’t keep doing this, my friend.”

“I’m alive.” I rub at my temples, waiting for the painkillers to kick in. “Thanks to you.”

“Me and that driver of yours. That guy—he’s a gem. Never let him go.”

“I won’t.”

Gideon throws himself into the chair across from my desk. “I’m ready to talk.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You have something to get off your chest?”

“You do. Clearly. When’s the last time you went on a bender like that?”

I roll my eyes. “You know when.”

He leans forward, elbows on the desk, fingers steepled in front of his face. “Listen, I can’t stay in the country to hold your hand. I’m supposed to fly out this afternoon.”

I laugh out loud, the sound seeming unfamiliar and strange. “Trust me—you don’t have to do that.”

“You need to talk to Juliet.”

A flash of anger spikes in my chest. “Oh, God. Is that what you came here to tell me?” I point toward the door. “There’s where you can take that kind of talk.”

“You do, and you know it,” he says, leveling a stern look at me. “The Wes I know would never turn to drink unless it was really bad. He’d look for a replacement woman instead. Plus, you said something last night in the club that made me think you were avoiding the inevitable.”

“What?” I can’t help my curiosity.

“You said, they’re never going to measure up to her. Not a single one of them. She’s the only one.”

We consider each other across the desk. “I did not.”

“You did.” Gideon stands up, heading back for the door. “Don’t let her get away, Wes. You’re a wreck without her.”